Chapter Eighteen
Mr Wright sang Aliannah’s praises as he walked into the museum's back warehouse. “Aliannah, you are an angel! For years, we have been trying to convince the Conrad’s to loan some of their pieces to our showcases—years! I don’t know how you did it, but thank you; they are exquisite!” Mr Wright hugged Aliannah tightly. Aliannah felt very uncomfortable. She didn’t know why Mr. Wright was acting so strangely. He is not a hugger.
“I simply asked Mr Conrad for a temporary loan for our Christmas showcase that is being held to raise money in aid of The Children’s Trust, and he happily obliged.” It was a flat-out lie, but she did not need to tell Mr Wright exactly how the loan came about.
Mr Wright nodded as he watched Jasper’s men unload the truck with the boxed-up paintings. He was eager to inspect them. Apparently, no one had set eyes on the collection in years, not since Alicia Conrad – Jasper’s grandmother had passed six years ago. It had pained Jasper’s grandfather too much to keep the paintings hanging about the house after her death, so he moved them to a secure storage facility. Jasper’s grandfather himself passed about a year ago; the paintings had been willed to Jasper. It was all over the papers at the time regarding which family member the collection had been entrusted to.
“Very well! We must put your charms to use again with our other difficult clients,” Aliannah squirmed in her skin. Mr Wright, without a doubt, had no clue how she had gotten the paintings and no clue that she was in Jasper's bed when he had called her.
“Don’t worry about the missed delivery either; you were correct in pursuing this avenue! I put Christina on it yesterday afternoon when the truck returned, although I must say I prefer your work to hers. She has always been a bit…. slow,” he shrugged and walked closer to the unboxed paintings to inspect them.
Aliannah slowly backed away before returning to her desk on the main floor. She was glad to get away from Mr. Wright. He always gave off an energy that made her uncomfortable. He would stand a bit too close or phrase things with strong underlying tones of ill intent. It sometimes made her wonder how he got to be in such a position of authority.
She just had to get through today, and then she could begin the Halloween fun. She was delighted when the roster showed that she had the day of Halloween off work. It would give her plenty of time to prepare for the night ahead. The plan was for Michelle and Gavin to come over for prep and pre-game before heading to Zino’s.
It was time for the first door jingle of the day. Aliannah took a big breath in and put on her best customer-friendly face. A coachload from Sunflower Seniors Home was in for an outing today. They were so happy to visit the museum, and Aliannah smiled at their joy. The tour changed from Aliannah giving them the information to the seniors educating her on all the artefacts and paintings.
It was amazing to hear all their recounts of the war and what life was like back then. The men in the group proudly told their stories of their soldier days with such pride, and the women told stories of how they went from being homemakers to working in the factories making weapons and uniforms for the soldiers since all the men had been drafted into the war effort. She got a notebook from her desk and began to take notes to add to her future tours on this exhibit. It was incredible how they lived back then.
One of the women, Dolores, commented on how much technology has advanced in the last fifty years. They didn’t think any of the current advancements were possible fifty years ago and commented on how futuristic modern society is.
“No one appreciates the art of a handwritten letter anymore,” the woman said sadly before continuing, “It takes true heart and feeling to put pen to paper and not just ping across a quick text. Young people these days are glued to those stupid devices.”
Aliannah was in agreement. “You are absolutely right, Dolores. A handwritten letter is the most beautiful form of communication, be it a love note or a simple letter from a friend. It shows that time and effort went into making it, whereas none of that goes towards typing out a text on your phone.” The rest of the seniors in the group agreed in unison. The group moved into the ballroom area for afternoon tea and demanded Aliannah join them to continue their conversations about war stories and the good old days. She was more than happy to join them.
The next hour was spent drinking tea, eating sandwiches, and chatting with the seniors. It filled Aliannah’s heart with joy to know that her job had afforded her the opportunity to meet these amazing people and learn so much from them.
She left work on a high that evening. She felt re-energised in her work, and her passion reignited to go further. She was determined that the museum would take her on with a permanent contract by the end of her internship. After all, she put in the most work out of everyone on the lower staff. She deserved to be kept on; in fact, she deserved a promotion. She had a new level of confidence as she walked home. Aliannah decided to pick up some Chinese takeout for dinner on her way home and made sure to order a fortune cookie, too. She had a good feeling about this one.
“Good evening, Miss Aliannah,” Harry greeted her as she walked through the building lobby. She was grateful he did not have any packages for her. She needed a night off from it all. Jasper was gone to his conference, and who cared where Ivan was as long as he was not in her apartment when she got upstairs. She felt like the tug rope between Ivan and Jasper; she did not like it. The more Ivan pulled, the further he pushed her towards Jasper. She stepped out of the elevator on her floor and went to her door. She did not relax until she was inside her apartment and completed a full sweep to ensure no unwanted visitors were lurking inside again.
She plonked down on the couch and turned on the TV. A crime documentary took her fancy; she ate her dinner while trying to solve the crime before the detectives did. This was a favourite activity she used to do with Michelle; nine times out of ten, they would guess correctly who the killer was and scoff at the idiotic ways they had gotten themselves caught. It was always the cocky ones that would have the dumbest mistakes. She lay back on the couch to continue watching the documentary when she had taken her fill of the Chinese takeout. She was fit to burst because she had eaten so much. They always sell such big portions. The red metallic foil of the fortune cookie glinted on the coffee table. Red was deemed a lucky colour in Chinese culture. Aliannah reached for it and cracked it open to read what fortune it contained.
Don’t be deceived by a pretty face. A pretty face can hide an ugly truth.
She read it over and over. She didn’t know what to make of it. Who could the pretty face be? Ivan? Jasper? Michelle? Gavin? Ok, so it wasn’t a personal fortune cookie made just for her, but Aliannah enjoyed trying to pin the fortune predictions onto something within her life. This time, she couldn’t pinpoint who it could be. She decided to blame Ivan. He was a pretty face, and Milena was his ugly truth – even if he kept denying it. When will he just accept that she saw him screwing Milena that night on his office desk? She sighed in frustration and began to clean up the Chinese containers.
She threw the rubbish down the trash chute in the hallway before getting ready for bed. She was exhausted from the day, filled with joy and happiness but exhausted. She pulled on her favourite fluffy pink pyjamas, washed her makeup off, tied her hair up in a messy bun and climbed into bed. Aliannah wanted to get a good night’s sleep in preparation for tomorrow. She was so excited for the party.